Heaven Sent Hawk
by Fallstavia
Summary: Exalted 1e Lunar Exaltation story of a woman in the North who avenges her homestead against 20 Icewalkers with only a bow.  Inspired by David Drake's Path of the Fury book.
1. Chapter 1

The purity of Northern snow near the homestead of Forst Sjork was stained a rare black. It wouldn't stay black for long but the white continued to be obscured as long as the buildings burned. From the ranch homes to the stables to the meeting hall, this homestead was torched. In a season, it might only be a memory up here in the often-cruel North.

For Kestrel Sesus, the memory was a hot, raw brand across her mind.

She came upon the homestead, low to the ground and circling the thick copse of trees. Her white-blonde hair and sky-blue eyes marked her as a Northerner, something the Realm-born woman had taken advantage of out here. Kestrel wasn't even thirty years old yet but she had crow's feet at the corner of her eyes, thanks to a life spent on the brutal frontier. Clad in her whitewashed hunting leathers, cowled in thick dire-cat fur, she would fit into any wilderness settlement. She had fit into this one.

Kestrel scooted across the south bank of the small bowl that held Forst Sjork, letting the snowfall settle on her back. Her hand trembled on her composite bow of black ash, a rare and prized weapon harvested from the Black Chase north of Sijan. Her eyes didn't tremble, though. Not even when she saw the barbarians throwing the corpses of her family out into the snow.

She could make out twenty-one raiders through the thick, falling snow, a full Icewalker war band. They might have a shaman with them and they certainly had a quartet of snow wolves with them. The maws of the beasts were stained red from pulling down the few who had managed to run. Blood stood out glaringly on the white camouflage worn by the raiders, revealing the crime done to the remainder of the homestead.

She moved up to the lip of the bowl and settled down into the snow. The cold was nothing compared to the growing edge of ice in her heart. Thirty-two bodies, slowly disappearing beneath the heavy snowflakes. That was the whole homestead, alright, including the men, the women...and the children. Even the three babies belonging to Eloise, Sophia and Elfara.

Four bodies laid to the side belonged to the barbarian causalities. That was very light, even against a poorly defended homestead. They must have taken the ranch completely by surprise...or they had a shaman.

Kestrel reached for the small iron flask at her neck, for the first time in four years. Her hands shook as she raised it to her nose, unstopped its silver and pewter cap, and took a deep breath. The long-missed grind of the alchemical salt vapors inside tore through her head. She grimaced and took another drag.

And then she sealed the bottle, tucked it back into her leathers and drew an arrow.

Her vision narrowed into a void holding only a barbarian. It had been four years since she'd had another mortal in her sights but her supplemental hunting and stalking the savage predators that threatened Forst Sjork had kept her sharp. The wind blew against her, throwing snow in her face, but she accepted the price. It kept the wolves from scenting her.

Kestrel noted the piles of loot outside each home, noted the small groups of raiders breaking up to begin packing away their gains for their journey back to their tribe. Dishes and metalwork, small tools and finely woven clothing were strewn liberally across the snow. The barbarians drifted apart to collect it. They would leave soon.

Her hands were steady now as she ignored the ravaged bodies of her friends, of her adopted family. The world had slowed down as her mind grew numb from old Salty, the potent alchemical battle-drug racing through her bloodstream. It would make her faster, make any pain trivial, and it would hold her together until she'd put every one of her family at peace by killing their murderers.

The first raider, all the way on the north side of the homestead, bent to collect a necklace from a body. She released her arrow, placed another and sighted her next victim when her shot caught the barbarian right through the neck. There were three others nearby, only one facing the slain man. He turned to see where the arrow had come from. Stupid.

Kestrel put her second shaft right through his left eye.

She drew her bowstring back and released again. And once more. The third and forth fell across the blackened snow, hardly distinguishable now from the bodies littering the field.

Seventeen Icewalkers left.

Her bow swiveled as she spotted a raider making his way toward the north side. She let him walk right over the bodies of his friends and watched him move to old Grissom's front door. When he peeked inside the burning building to find his fellows, she shot him clean through the heart with a target arrow.

Sixteen.

The rest worked contentedly enough and Kestrel waited, riding the ache of old Salty like the practiced soldier she was. The drug gave her ample time to sort out the remaining barbarians and find their shaman. It wasn't easy but at last she saw him.

These Icewalkers weren't as stupid as the one's she'd killed under General Arada in the Icewalker Campaigns five years ago. Their leader was dressed like all the others and worked just like them. Clever. But he was still the one giving the orders and he was the only one the others yielded to. She marked him in her mind and moved on.

A raider walked behind a building on the east side to relieve himself. She let him get his pants down before putting an arrow through the soft part of his skull. One of the other barbarians's head came up, as if he'd seen something. The sheer volume of falling snow made it unlikely but Kestrel didn't complain. She waited until he circled the building and shot him dead just as he came upon the other one.

Fourteen.

She didn't have much time left. Kestrel Sesus had once been Sergeant Sesus Kestrel, one of General Tepet Arada's Lightning Forces deployed to demoralize and cripple Icewalker operations during the campaigns in the North half a decade ago. She'd killed more chieftains than she could remember, fighters too, but there was no way she could kill two-dozen Icewalkers by herself.

"Hesiesh, bless me with Your favor," she whispered into the wind as she sighted down a group of four moving toward the dead two on the east side of the homestead. "You spent all your strength in a single stroke. See this unworthy mortal and bless Her for using her useless life the way You did."

The wind whipped snow into her face and Kestrel let it melt there. She rode old Salty and she was invincible, as long as her arrows held out. Her bow tracked across the homestead yard, finding the shaman and pulling the target in. She found him stuffing Sophia's wool blanket into his pack. Kestrel had given that to her, to keep her baby warm. The memory ached on the outside of the drug but Kestrel could feel no pain for as long as the vapors in her blood held.

The four reached the slain two and shouted an alarm. The shaman jerked his head up at the same time the others did. She released and rolled back to squirm through the snow, trusting in her perfect accuracy to fell the barbarian before he could call up any more Spirit magic.

Kestrel heard the crack of crude arrows cutting into branches, thudding into trees, but she had already moved away from it. She wiggled her way west, sliding through the brittle snow with practiced ease. She kept her bow up, the string clear of ice, and she was not surprised in the least when the wolves came up over the southern embankment.

Her hands blurred with a speed only old Salty could produce. The first animal died as it sniffed for her spoor. The second had time to turn and growl at her before it took an arrow through its mouth and out the back of its neck. Her bow was strung for killing dire cat and it gave her more than enough killing power against these beasts.

The remaining two charged her. One made it within thirty yards. The other made it to ten.

And then Kestrel was up on the east side of the homestead bowl. The barbarians had fanned out, taking cover near the burning houses of her home. Kestrel's face quirked with a smile. Predictable. They must be realizing how many of them were dead already. They probably thought there was a small army out there.

"Hesiesh, give them into my hands," she hissed in the wind as she drew up another raider. "I'm not asking for Exaltation in my next life. Just let me honor those they slaughtered with their blood. I don't care if I die...just help me get them. That's all I ask, Hesiesh, that's all."

She shot a crouched raider through the neck. His companion jerked back, looked her way and shouted another alarm before he died just as fast.

Eleven left.

Again, she was on the move. Kestrel ran low to the ground, not caring about stealth or covering her trail. She needed mobility before someone down there got a brain, got their act together, and mobbed her.

Peeking back up over the bowl, she saw six of them charging her previous position. Fast as the snowstorm, Kestrel whipped an arrow out and sent it spinning away. Another. Another. And one more. Three found their marks and, if the raiders hadn't died outright, they'd freeze from blood loss in this terrible cold.

The last three dived over the rise and took cover behind the trees. Kestrel grimaced and spun her bow back to the homestead. Two barbarians looked her way, thanks to the hoarse shouts of the survivors. One more arrow and it was only one barbarian now and he wouldn't be dumb enough to show his face again.

Seven.

An arrow slammed into the tree next to her and Kestrel Sesus swore. She had hoped they would be too shaken up to remember their bows. So much for that. She rolled across the ground, behind a tree, hoping her whitewashed leathers would make her a harder target.

Stringing another arrow, listening to their guttural tribe-speak, Kestrel leaned out toward the trio behind her. She shot another one squarely in the chest as they tried to advance but she didn't think she'd killed him.

Then an Icewalker burst into sight from the homestead, charging with a full-out yell. He had a Realm infantry-issue sword, no doubt looted during the campaigns, and he spotted her at once. Kestrel knew the bow was pointless now and spared just enough time to throw it out of reach before he was on her.

The sword swept in and buried itself in the tree she'd leaned against. Kestrel jerked her knife free from its sheath, yanked the man's head back by the hair and slit his throat open. His blood spilled across her arm, warm and then shockingly cold in the cutting wind.

Six.

Kestrel turned to face the rushing Icewalkers, drawing her field hatchet. It had served her well in the forest as well as in battle, the chief reason it was the signature weapon of the Lightning Forces. Knife in one hand, axe in the other, she stood fast as they came on.

The first reached her swung a huge sword double-handed. She ducked under it and let his momentum take him right past her. Kestrel whirled with her hatchet and hacked the second squarely in the face. Without pause, she pivoted to roll herself under the third Icewalker's axe.

Her hatchet came out of the falling man's face and she jabbed the axe-wielder right under the arm with her knife. Kestrel rose from her second victim and leaped back as the raider with the two-handed sword almost cut her in half. She circled him until the snow blew in her face. The ice stung her eyes. Then she grinned when he took the bait.

The huge sword whipped straight across. Kestrel hit the ground and chuckled at the satisfying thud of the sword slamming into a tree. Up she came and her hatchet punched through his thick furs, eviscerating him.

Three.

Impact rocked her body. Kestrel looked over her shoulder at the arrow standing out of it. Then her ice-blue eyes glared at the Icewalker with the bow on the lip of the homestead's embankment. He tried to string another arrow and got as far as pulling one out when her knife-arm snapped forward. He died where he stood.

And then there were two left.


	2. Chapter 2

Kestrel snatched her bow from the snow, shaking the powder off of it, and drew another arrow. She ran up to the edge of the homestead. Below, the buildings of Forst Sjork smoldered and the field was littered with the dead. Somewhere down there were two Icewalkers, the last two who needed executing.

Her eyes were narrow, her visage grim, and she didn't care anymore if she presented a profile for them to target. The pain in every breath wasn't from the cold anymore. It came from a punctured lung and there was very little hope that she would survive it, alone in the North. At this point, risking what was left of her life for justice was the best she could hope for.

Old Salty sharpened her eyes and her reflexes. A smudge of black obscured a tiny portion of the pattern of falling snowflakes. An oncoming arrow. She could take a chance and try to dodge it or she could take advantage of it and find the archer.

Kestrel decided against dodging. Instead, she concentrated fully on backtracking the oncoming projectile. There.

The arrow hit her high in the leg, right in the muscle of her left thigh. Kestrel didn't feel any pain, thanks to the battle drug. She only felt grim satisfaction as she released another arrow and gut-shot the man.

One.

There he was, making a break for it all the way across the homestead. He might have made it if she were mortal but old Salty made her as Exalted as any Dragon-Blooded. It was horribly addictive, extremely damaging to one's health if used too often, but its advantages were the reason General Arada had supplied his Lightning Forces. She wasn't Ashigaru but she'd lay good jade against a Lookshyan Ranger in a fight.

Kestrel pulled her last three arrows out. With one, she hit him in the back of the kneecap, sending him sprawling to the snow. She drew back on her bow and waited. Sure enough, he tried to rise and rolled on his side to get back up. Carefully, she held her shot...and then fired. Seconds later, the arrow hit him clean in the groin.

The former Sergeant Sesus Kestrel stalked through the snow, past the destroyed remains of her home and the bodies of her slaughtered family. She glanced back once and almost chuckled at her blood trail. The cold slowed her bleeding but she gave herself maybe fifteen minutes, tops. Plenty of time when you really thought about it, at least when you rode old Salty.

She climbed the embankment and wobbled over to the badly wounded Icewalker. Kestrel's leg didn't work too well now but she could still stand. Stand, hell, she could still pull her bow.

The groaning man stiffened when he realized he had an arrow pointed right at his eye. He was just a boy, she realized. Just into his teenage years.

"That's right," Kestrel said. "I got all your buddies. I got every single last one of you. Any last words? Anything to say for yourself?"

"Wha...? Why?" he mumbled thickly.

"Why?" Kestrel glared, her anger flaring hotly. It was the only heat in her now. "My friends are dead. My family is dead. You killed them all, you and your kind. You killed babies and took everything precious to those people. For that, you deserve a hell of a lot more than a clean death. But that's what I'm going to give you."

"...who?" he asked. The barbarian looked increasingly confused, which might be due to blood loss too. Kestrel knew how that was. She was really light-headed now. Probably because every breath bubbled in her pierced lung.

"Who? You mean, who am I? I'm your angel of death. I'm Justice. I'm what happens when people like you think they can do whatever they want to people like these. I'm the goddamned line against the chaos. You're stopped cold and now you're going to die."

"...you're...you're just a girl!" he exclaimed weakly.

"If I'd had kids at your age, I'd be a grandmother now," Kestrel snickered. "I'm old enough, Icewalker. Old enough to kill every last one of you."

"...you can't kill...all of us," he said, just a hint of anger flaring in his numb words. His eyes met hers, challenging her. It was a challenge she had to resist. She needed information.

"All of who? Was this more than a raiding party? Did someone order this?"

"...a mighty God...too strong for us...the Tundra Bear King. He demanded tribute. He...he wants to tear down...your cities."

"Thanks for the name," Kestrel said softly. Then she put her last arrow right through his head. She could have made it a stomach wound, to find out if the cold or blood loss would get him first, but she wasn't that kind of woman. She'd killed hundreds for General Arada in her ten-year military service and every one of them was a military target. That's what made her different from animals like this.

She didn't mind hurting him a bit but she'd be damned if she became like them.

The wind seemed to gnaw through her shoulder and her leg. Kestrel settled down next to the body of the last barbarian and uncorked her old Salty. She took another hit, cringing at the rasp of the smell in her nose, like a file grinding down bone. Yeah, that took care of the last bit of feeling. She'd taken enough now to put her in a medic's tent when she came down...but she wouldn't before she froze to death so no worries, right?

"It isn't right," Kestrel said, shaking her head as she watched the snow slowly burying Forst Sjork. Soon her home would be gone, the only place of peace she'd known since taking her early retirement bonus from the Legions four years ago. These people had been closer to her than her own Dragon-Blooded parents had been to a child who had never measured up to their standards.

Fitting that she die with them. What didn't fit was that the one most responsible for this crime would live...and keep on killing more families like hers. Kestrel's fingers tightened around her bow but it was an impotent gesture. She wouldn't survive the trip to kill their leader, even if she knew where he was.

"_**No, it's not**_."

Kestrel glanced at the strange woman sitting next to her. How long had she been there, anyway? And what was an Immaculate Monk doing out here, dressed only in light robes in the middle of a blizzard?

"Some God wants tribute and he kills everyone I know for it," Kestrel said angrily. "I should be preparing my soul for its next life...but I can't let this one go, priest. That Tundra Bear King should pay for what he's done. These people couldn't stop him...how many more are going to die before someone does?"

"_**I don't know**_," the bald Immaculate said, looking over the scene of carnage. She barely looked past her teenage years, which meant she was probably a young Dragon-Blooded. "_**But I'd say you should be the someone. You just killed twenty-one barbarians, four wolves...by yourself, with only a quiver of arrows. That's amazing**_!"

"Thanks," Kestrel said. "I didn't think I'd make it, to tell you the truth. Not that I'm going to make it now of course. But I got them all. I guess Hesiesh hears prayers."

"_**Oh, it wasn't Hesiesh who heard you**_," the monk chuckled. She was wonderfully beautiful, in a way that might have stirred Kestrel if that portion of her anatomy wasn't frozen along with the rest of her. "_**It was Me**_."

"Oh yeah? Well, thanks anyway." Kestrel coughed up blood and felt it freeze on her gloved fingers. "Do me a favor? Next time you're back in the Realm...you look up Sesus Vece and you tell her that her daughter died well."

"_**Tell her yourself**_," the monk grinned. It was a strange show of emotion on the face of a woman who did not look given to smiling much. A curious passion danced in her eyes and it made Kestrel wonder. "_**Or maybe you can tell her after you bring the one responsible to justice. You see, Kestrel, I'm going to Exalt you. Even I rarely see courage like yours. You actually killed all of these yourself and you're still willing to go after their leader. I'd be a fool to pass up a drive like that**_."

"Who are you?" Kestrel asked.

"_**I could be your Mother**_," the woman smiled. She reached over, caressed Kestrel's face, and then yanked the arrow right out of her back. Thanks to old Salty, it didn't hurt a bit. "_**I could be your Daughter**_." The monk pulled the arrow in her leg out next. "_**But, for you, I'm your Wife**_."

"So much for those monastic vows," Kestrel chuckled. She felt a little better, which was bizarre. Must be the overdose. "Actually, I had my eye on this sweet widow over in the next homestead. Her kid even liked me...but I don't suppose that's going to happen now."

"_**Oh no**_," the monk grinned. "_**I've got plans for you**_." The bald woman suddenly kissed her passionately...and the kiss hissed along Kestrel's skin, searing its way down into her blood and bones. Where the sensation passed, she felt heat and life return. "_**First, you need to see Tiern-she. She'll give you what you need to succeed, Kestrel. Then...I want you to go after the mastermind behind this slaughter. Find the one responsible, my hawk, and mete out the justice they deserve**_."

"Who are you?" Kestrel repeated, eyes growing wide with the realization that this woman was something greater than any Exalt.

"_**I have many names and none. Most call me Luna**_." The Goddess of the Moon smiled and Her eyes lit up with silvery incandescence. "_**But you, my little hawk, can call me Lover**_."

Kestrel sat blankly as the Goddess picked up her hand and kissed her palm. Their skin glowed, she realized. Both of them.

"I'm Anathema," she whispered. "But I don't feel any different."

"_**You're about to**_," the Moon grinned wickedly. Wreathed in Immaculate Robes, head bare and gleaming in the snow, the monk nonetheless climbed into Kestrel's lap and pushed her down into the snow. And then Luna demonstrated Her divinity in a way that left no doubt at all in the mind of her new Lunar.

Kestrel Sesus' first thought upon waking was that she was covered in snow. She lifted her head, shook it free, and realized she was in a large indentation in the homestead's embankments. She was naked and she lay on grass, as if her body had melted the snow all the way down to the ground.

White powder fell from her as she rose. She sure wasn't melting it like that now. It must have been...Luna.

She grinned at the memory, then shook it off to find her clothes. Her whitewashed leathers were a little hard to find but soon she was dressed. Kestrel holstered her knife and her hatchet, unstrung her bow and packed it away for travel.

Then she paused to think about what she was doing. An Anathema Goddess had healed her and given her the strength to avenge Forst Sjork. A place hovered in her mind, pulling her northward toward this Tiern-She that Luna wanted her to meet.

Kestrel nodded to herself slowly. She wasn't dying at the moment. There was nothing left for her here. She had a place to go. And a purpose that lay beyond it.

When she set her boots on the trail northward, Kestrel Sesus had a smile on her face. Hellish or not, Luna had given her the power to stop this Tundra Bear King. Damned or not, she was going to use that power.

And Heaven have mercy on the entire Icewalker nation if it got in her way.


End file.
